Hungry like a wolf
by ar-men15
Summary: for #TrickOrJaquen2019


Work Text:

HUNGRY LIKE A WOLF

"Are you sure to let Sanya go out with the other kids tonight?"

"You're too protective, she's nine years old, she's no more a little girl."

"But it's a new place, we know few people here. If she walks too far ... "

"They stay inside our block. Sanya is a responsible girl and she has her little friend to defend herself."

"Your daughter showed her dagger to her classmates! They all run away. You know the problems this country has with weapons! The school could report us to the FBI. "

"You're right, lovely girl. We cannot blow up the cover, we are here on a mission for a year and we must adapt to local customs. I'll talk to Sanya again. "

"Exactly, theirs, not our traditions. In Eastern Europe where you were born, what did you do on the eve of All Saints? "

"The same as in your North island, traditional sweets and some masks, not like in America."

Arya went to the window to show her husband that all the houses in their New England upper-middle-class residential neighbourhood were decorated with orange pumpkins, festoons and lights.

"We are surrounded by pumpkins, candies and masks. As if we don't have enough in the closet. "

"My dear wife, you are never satisfied with your faces, you always want more."

Arya Stark shrugged, accustomed often to get what she wanted.

"It's my only weakness, the other women collect shoes or perfume bottles."

Quick steps and heavy blows on the corridor wooden floor announced the arrival of Sanya H'ghar and her huge wolf, a faithful friend they had brought to the new city overseas: a serious problem troubled the child.

"Mum! Dad! I need a bigger basket, each kid has one at least twice as much as mine. Nymeria also wants one to tie to her collar." The wolf confirmed with a howl, trying to free her head; her little owner put dragon shaped paper ears on her and Sanya's costume was a frightening green dragon, arrived from Winterfell and sewn by Aunt Sansa in her atelier.

Arya looked at her family with a resigned expression and went down to the basement to look for baskets, Jaquen lowered himself to lift Sanya on his shoulders - the girl was petite for her age, a trait inherited from her mother, he had only transmitted her his hair colour - and took her out to hang more pumpkins with candles on both sides of the entrance door.

"Arya Stark, stay away from the window! A girl has to do her own experiences without a mother's breath on her neck. "

"They're at the Lannisters, the house across the street. I see them, Sanya holds Nymeria on the lead ... "

Jaquen closed the curtains with a firm gesture.

"There is private surveillance in this neighborhood, we pay our share. She does not - I repeat – not run into dangers and the biggest wolf in town protects her. "

"I know, but she's my baby!"

"Karate brown belt, expert bow shooter, promise of the foil."

Arya raised a hand to stop Jaquen doing the list of their daughter's sporting merits; Sanya was able to defend herself even without the wolf.

If an attacker, real or of Halloween's, had approached Sanya, he would have had surely the worst.

Jaquen thought that maternal instinct to protect - although with many facets and cautions - really developed in women and Arya had been no exception.

Sanya wasn't expected, wasn't wanted, but was accepted immediately.

Becoming parents after a few years of marriage and with their particular job hadn't been easy, yet for their only daughter - Arya had insisted to use double contraception after the birth - they had reached a magical compromise.

Their life was every day a subtle balance between reality and fiction, their bond - marriage had been more a formality for missions and the guarantee to work always together than an imperative - was indissoluble. Arya feared a child would break their dynamics, Jaquen had reassured her.

Even Aunt Sansa, with the experience of her two kids from the Hound, heirs of the title of House Stark, had calmed Arya during the pregnancy, supporting her sister so much that she became part of the niece's name.

Becoming a father was for Jaquen the most intense experience of his life, all his killings became a faint memory after the night his daughter come into the world: when for the first time he held in his arms the screaming bundle, with few red hairs and gray eyes, he understood that he could no longer remain no one but only become the father of Sanya H'ghar.

The girl had shown from an early age that she had the right traits to follow in her parents' footsteps, at the age of twelve Jaquen planned to give her the first real face, while Arya would train her for combat. Jaquen knew that he would be a too benevolent father to turn Sanya into a new Arya and that it was better to leave that task to the mother.

-  
"Let's get ready, they're outside here, in front of the Baelishes. "Arya checked from the office window. "Put your face on, Jaquen."

She handled her husband the mask of a vampire with long sharp teeth that had terrorized the plains of Balkan Europe for years.

It was strange to be able to wear faces for free for the joy of children; Arya chose an old woman with a thousand wrinkles and white hair, a witch of the mountains of the lake they had recovered in a mission in northern Italy.

They looked at each other briefly and at the large mirror in the hall and when they came out with two bags of candies and chocolate with low sugar and calories, for the teeth and health of the young, a cry of joy and excited barks rose from the group of children, dogs and wolf.

The children complimented Sanya about the look of her parents, the most original of all, asking for photos.

A little girl felt proud as ever for how mom and dad had managed to charm her friends.

Back at school on Monday, everyone would know that the H'ghar family had perfectly understood the spirit of the American celebration.

Sanya returned home after an hour, tired but happy, on Nymeria's back, who was proceeding slowly so as not to drop the cookies from her basket. It was the wolf's intention to eat a good part of them before her mistress put everything away for later, saying that they were too many and that even a wolf had to respect the diet like everyone else.

Jaquen picked up his daughter to carry her upstairs to her bedroom and wrap her in a warm duvet while Arya stroked Nymeria's back, whose snout was immersed in sweets.

"Good girl, you protected your pack."

Turning off the lights, leaving only the candles to die out inside the pumpkins, Arya joined her husband. "I go to Sanya or she's already sleeping?" She asked as she carefully put her mask away.

"She is very tired I couldn't get her costume off. She wanted to sleep with it so I changed her socks only, her feet were cold."

"Like yours, always."

"I'm not a child of ice like you. Before she collapsed from sleep she made me promise tomorrow we'll cook the turkey together."

"Another local tradition! A huge turkey that only Nymeria will be able to finish."

"Don't worry, a man has organized everything and he has already prepare traditional English dishes for his girls."  
So he was cooking before, the smell of ginger and spices she felt on him was stronger than usual.  
Arya sat at the beauty table under the window, untied her long braids and began to smooth them, but Jaquen took the brush from her hand.

"Let me. I like it."

She observed him in the reflection of the glass while with slow gestures, often a habit, a prelude to a night of love, Jaquen passed his fingers and the brush between the threads of black silk, starting from the head down to the tip of the hair.

Arya let herself go and closed her eyes, breathing deeply, the touch of his hands was hypnotic, only Jaquen knew how to make her relax.

When he put the brush back on the table, Arya opened her eyes and stood up to look for him. Hands on Jaquen's shoulders, faces close. He still wore his mask.

"My vampire."

"A man can be anyone, as long as he is yours, Arya Stark."

"Yes, but I don't want to kiss you with those teeth."

Slowly her hand reached the edge of the face, where Jaquen's flesh began, grabbed it with fingers expert after years of practice; gently Arya freed her husband's face, the one she remembered from their first meeting, the one that was his face for her, not caring if it was really his.

Throughout his life a man had never allowed someone else to perform such an intimate gesture on him, not even at the beginning of his face training. Only his lovely girl was ever allowed.

"You're mine, only mine, Jaquen H'ghar, and now, Halloween or not, I'm going to have my treat, and remember, no tricks."

Arya's hands slid softly along Jaquen's back, hugging him close and feeling the proof of his desire; her husband's passionate kiss confirmed Arya soon she would enjoy the sweetest pleasures with him.


End file.
